The Artist Who Cheated Death

slipped out of the house. Driving Mark's spare luxury sedan felt strange, a reminder of the gilded cage she was trying to escape. Sh

he spent over an hour carefully selecting her tools, her hands moving with a familiar confidence. Brushes of every si

of her new studio, setting up an easel by the large glass doors. As she worked, s

't the polished pop star from Ava' s first life, not yet. This Sienna was a B-list local singer, dressed in trendy but cheap clothes, t

mall, dismissive once-over, not recognizing her as the wife of her ultimate target. The look was sharp, competitive. Ava felt a flash of the old, familiar pain, the sting of betrayal. But then it was go

. She wore a stunning new dress, not the blue one Mark had requested, but a fiery red one that made a statement. She was

mother, was suspicious. The day after the g

eyes scanning the foyer, looking for any sign of disorder

a said, taking the

ng room. "I was worried you were going to let that silly painting

trash bag. A distinct smell of turpentin

s that

se down the hall towards Ava's studio. Ava's heart sank. She had be

s alive with Ava's passion. An easel held a half-finished canvas, a vibrant, em

ne, her face twisting i

ed to me. You're still wasting y

of time!" Ava shot ba

hoing in the large house. "Your work is this family! You

e and, before Ava could react, she poured it all over a stack of finished charc

rd to grab the jar. But the damage was

," Sarah said, her chest heavin

. This was the woman who was supposed to love her, to protect her. An

," Ava said, her voi

house! It's Mark's

t.

on of the staff. Humiliated and furious, Sarah finally

es. The pain was sharp, but it was different this time. It wasn't the pain

his face like a thundercloud.

ng in the doorway of the desecrated studio. "Your

destroyed my work," Ava sai

, then back at Ava. There was no sym

defensive. "Frankly, Ava, so am I. Look at this place. Lo

had destroyed her property. He only cared that his perfect, orderly life had been

ranting a major favor. "But you have to see this from her pe

e towards her. "Let's just clean this up. We'll forg

he felt nothing. Not love, not hate, just a vast, empty distance. The last e

d, her voice

d, confus

id, standing up. "And I will not go back to be

e house and locked the door. The battle lines had been drawn. This wasn't just about her art anymore. It was about her survival. And sh